Siren's Lure
by Penelope Jadewing
Summary: ONESHOT REVAMP. She's a maid, he's the scion of the whole Nightray house. She should have more respect. How dare she, really! How dare she talk back to him. How dare she scold him! How dare she... KISS HIM? Now she's gone too far! And he really shouldn't be surprised that it's all Leo and Oz's idea. Elliot/Nerys Canon/OC Rated T for censored swearing and mild suggestive content.


**A/N: So, this is a revamp of my short story, Siren's Lure. I deleted it 'cause there was some content that was bugging my conscience, which I took care of. For the most part, it's the same, with just a few changes.**

**For those who've never read it, this short features my OC, Nerys Winterspell, who works as a lady in waiting to Vanessa Nightray, and a scullery maid in the Nightray kitchen. I consider her an ideal match for Elliot, who needs someone who can match his temper and give him back as much as he dishes out, yet possesses a sense of tact and sensitivity. I apologize to those who don't like Canon/OC pairings, but I do hope you'll give Nerys a chance. :)**

**Thanks, all!**

**~Penelope**

* * *

The library door slams shut, and the lock clicks. Elliot whirls, jumping at the duel mahogany sentries of his most cherished room, and grabs the knob. Unfortunately, it won't budge. He shakes the doors, growling loud.

"LEO! WHAT THE H***!?"

Outside, Leo snickers. "It's for your own good, Elliot! As I've said – it's a servant's job to take care of his master!"

"DON'T SPOUT THAT C*** TO ME, D*****! LET ME OUTTA HERE!"

"Boy, you sure do have a foul mouth."

The voice makes him jump and his gaze jerks around toward its source, the sofas by the window bay. That maid, that infuriating new maid – Nerys – she's lying there, sitting upside down on one of them, head hanging off the edge and arms outstretched as she reads a book. Her snowy hair brushes the floor, and the silver light makes her gold eyes glow.

He swears again under his breath.

"Heard that one, too. I'm gonna guess you learned all these colorful words from Gilbert?"

"SHUT UP! It's bad enough that my servant's up to no good without you adding more trouble." He turns back to the doors, giving them another bang.

"Who says I'm not part of the no-good?"

He glances back, eyes narrowing. "What?"

"That new friend of yours – blond, big green eyes, kinda ditsy – told me that your sister needed me in here. Then they locked me in."

"That Vessalius kid is HERE!?" Again, he bangs and kicks at the doors. "LEO! What the h*** are you up to!?" He feels along the ledge of the doorframe, where they always keep the key. It's gone. Growling again, he throws his shoulder against the solid doors.

"Yeah, go Elliot, 'cause hitting things always helps."

"Would you shut up already? And don't talk to me like that! You're a servant, what's more, a woman; you should act like it." He rattles the knob, before stepping back and sighing.

"Nah. Don't feel like it." She kicks her feet with maddening flippancy, turning the page of the volume she holds above her face.

Grinding his teeth, he goes up to the sofa, looking over the back to her face below. His lip twitches. "What are you doing?"

"Volatile _and _moody. Surprising change of subject for someone who was so furious just a second ago," she says without even looking at him.

He sighs in exasperation this time. "Why are you sitting upside down on my couch?"

"Your couch?"

"My house, my furniture, my couch."

She shrugs. "Blood to the brain. Makes you think better. You should try it sometime."

Scowling, he knocks her feet down, making her flop over onto her side. "That's just a stupid myth. The only thing more blood to the brain does for you is make you lightheaded."

She snickers as he walks around the sofa to the front to look over the books she has strewn about. "Solid evidence you've never tried it before."

"Tsh." He begins stacking all the novels into some semblance of order. "Geez, for a servant, you make one h*** of a mess."

She sits up, resting her current novel on her knees after straightening her black maid's skirt. "At least I clean up my messes. Have you seen your study lately?"

"What were you doing in my study!?" he snaps, nearly dropping one of the books.

She scoffs, rolling her tiger-eyes. "Your sister ordered me to clean up after you, since you obviously don't know how. She happened to find it in the state of the aftermath of the American Civil War, and since I was the only attendant in the vicinity, I got stuck with the job."

Nose wrinkling in distaste, he just shakes his head. Females. "Okay, okay, sorry I asked." He notes familiar titles as he finishes stacking the scattered books, and finds a number of them as different installments of Holy Knight. He frowns. "You have a lot of action/adventure novels for a girl."

She cocks a brow. "Is there a problem with that?"

He shrugs. It's not as if he really cares; he's simply very quickly falling victim to boredom. Whatever sinister scheme Leo has planned, he hopes he gets it over with sooner than later. Sinking onto the sofa across the table from hers, he examines one of the covers. "Aren't most girls more interested in the syrupy atrocities known as romance novels?"

She fakes a laugh. "What?" She throws her head back, resting a hand daintily on her collar, batting her lashes. "The ones full of knights in shining armor, dungeons and dragons, damsels in distress and passionate stolen kisses under the silvery moonlight?" She snorts, dropping her hand. "Yeah, right – give me Edwin versus Zekred or Robin Hood versus Guy of Gisborne any day."

Well, that's abnormal. Still, he's already begun to zone out, having cracked open a volume of Holy Knight he'd read before for the sake of something to do. The one where that a** Edgar dies… Why is he reading this one again?

Maybe to avoid talking to the library's other sole occupant. Yes, that's it.

"You do realize why they've locked us in here together, right?" asks the girl, making him look up once more. She's gazing blandly at him.

He shakes his head, blinking in confusion. "…No?"

Slapping a palm to her forehead, she groans. "Ugh, you men are so dense… They think we have eyes for each other, hello?"

He almost chokes on his own breath, blood pressure spiking once again. "WHAT THE H*** ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?"

"Your servant plus a kid who's too naïve for his own good equals bad stuff, man," she continues, leaning back on the couch and crossing her legs. "And you should stop screaming so much – I can see the veins in your forehead. That can't be good for you."

He wonders how long his teeth will last if he keeps grinding them together like this. How can she even say something like that? What's worse, it is the most likely explanation. Leo has a cruel, perverted sense of humor, and that Oz kid, well, doesn't seem much better. The two of them together, he's sure, would concoct a vile scheme like this quite easily. How many times has Leo teased him about a woman being the only thing that could ease his temper, or about the pretty new handmaid of Vanessa's?

"D***…" he mutters, rubbing his throbbing temple. "My servant," he raises his voice just loud enough that, if Leo's outside like he thinks he is, he'll hear it, "needs some lessons in modesty!"

"How about originality? Sounds like he might be reading some of those 'syrupy atrocities' to get such a cliché idea as this." She folds her arms over her chest. "Sheesh – you nobles really overdo your drama."

He stiffens and casts her a sharp glance. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what it sounds like. You always make such a big deal about everything, especially romantic relationships."

"You make it sound like we're all a bunch of Shakespeares or something," he mutters, to which she raises her brows.

"Aren't you?"

"Hey! I take that as an insult!"

"It was supposed to be."

He growls. Infuriating, infuriating woman! "Well, then, shut it! I'm getting tired of your mouth running!"

"Blood pressure."

"AGH!" He nearly throws the book across the room, and probably would have if he wasn't worried about Leo exploding at him later for it.

"Wow, you really have no self-control, do you? I don't pity your current girl." She sinks back, settling in to begin reading again.

His eye twitches. "What?"

"Whoever she is, she's gotta have a lot of patience. Unlike you." She's entered passive mode once again.

"What are you talking about!?"

"Whoever your girlfriend is," she quips. "That is, until you find the next one."

"WHAT THE H***!? I don't have one!"

At this, she looks genuinely surprised, looking up curiously. "Really? Funny, I thought all nobles kept their lovers on a string on their belts. Like your brother."

She barely dodges the book that hurtles across the room at her face, and looks up with a cock-eyed stare.

Elliot's eyes blaze. He's on his feet, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Listen – if that's the stereotype, don't you dare lump me in with them! I don't agree with what my brother does-"

"Do you even know what he does?" she quips with a sardonic brow-lift.

"Of course I know!" he snaps in return. "It's scandalous, and puts a stain on the family name!"

"'Cause family name is all that matters, right?"

There's an undertone of bitterness in her words, but he ignores it. Who cares if she's irked, so is he! "Of course it is! Reputation is all a noble family has, and this one hangs onto theirs by a thread! So don't go bad-mouthing something you couldn't understand!"

"And the trail of broken hearts people like that leave is of no consequence, then."

He pauses, a tad taken aback at the dark current of her voice. Why does that matter at all?

She's gone back to her book, but her brow is still knitted tightly. As he stands there, searching for something to say, she suddenly cocks her head, harsh scowl turning into a look of curiosity. "So, wait… you don't have a lass?"

He coughs. "That's a very Irish way of putting it, but no, I don't."

She raises her brows at him. "Have you ever had one?"

Biting the inside of his cheek, he sits back down. After a brief hesitation, he gives a casual shake of his head. "No."

"Not surprising," she deadpans, setting her book aside.

"HEY!"

"So, have you ever kissed a girl, then?"

His words catch in his throat, and he sputters, feeling blood rush to his ears. "Ahem – excuse me?"

"Have. You. Ever. Kissed. A. Girl?"

He opens his mouth to reply, temper at its boiling point.

"Have you ever even wanted to?"

Whatever he was initially going to say, it's gone. Is this woman just trying to find every button that's possible to push on him!? "Why the heck would I!? Girls are annoying!"

She looks like she's chiding a child who should know better. "Because you're a young man-"

"I'M A NOBLE!"

"-and as part of said primitive species, you in particular, your blood can run hotter than any other person on the planet, I'm sure. Do you know what that means?"

"Don't talk at me like I'm four years old!"

"Sometimes, I wonder. It means that your veins are pumping with extra hormones, like adrenaline and testosterone, which give you extra boosts of strength in high-pressure situations. Do you know what they also do?"

"SHUT UP, YOU PERVERT! Of course I know!"

"So, I ask: have you ever kissed a girl?"

Again, words fail him, and he stares in shock at the maid. Of all the gall-!

A smile quirks her lips. She begins to chortle. "Aha! You haven't!"

Color rushes first from his face, then back to it with a vengeance. No words come to aid him. Sputter, sputter. Like a clam. "I didn't say that!"

"Mr. Proud-n-Noble's never had a kiss from a girl! HOW CUTE!"

"OF COURSE I HAVE!"

She pauses in her laughter, leaning forward, and looks genuinely inquisitive. "Oh. Really?"

"Duh! I'm not that sheltered," he mutters, twiddling his thumbs before hooking them in his vest pockets.

"Had me fooled."

"Oh, would you SHUT UP!?"

"When was it?"

He blinks. "When was what?"

"Your kiss."

Choke on breath. Gasp. Stifle heat in face. "Wh-what?"

She sighs, rolling her eyes. "You men are absolutely clueless! How long ago was this kiss you supposedly had?"

"What the heck!?"

She cocks her head. "Who was it with?"

"Stop it!"

"Was she pretty?"

"Cut it out!"

"Do you even remember her name?"

_Would she just…_ "I DON'T HAVE TO TELL YOU!"

She frowns. "I don't think you did it."

_Disrespectful…_ "Course I did!"

"Did you like it?"

_Impudent little brat!_ "IT DOESN'T MATTER!"

She grins. "So why are you blushing?"

Gah. Heat. No doubt his face is red as a beet at the moment, and getting redder at being caught, well, red-handed. Or, red-faced. D*****. His mouth opens, and then closes, like a fish.

She laughs. "See? You've never kissed a girl in your life."

"ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?"

"If the boot doesn't fit, then prove it!" she bursts, and he snaps his mouth shut.

What the heck did she just insinuate?

Then, she's in front of him, pinning his wrists on the sofa cushions beside him, and before he can blink, she's straddled his lap, her knees keeping his hands secured at his sides.

"WHAT THE H***? GET OFF ME!"

"You, Beauty Boy," she mutters darkly, poking the beauty mark under his left eye, making him twitch, "are lying through your pretty white teeth, and I'm going to prove it."

She's close, really close. Her hands, palms flat, trail up his chest and around his neck. More heat makes his face burn, and he leans as far away from her as he possibly can, though he knows it's a pointless effort. He's been cornered, and her teeth are bared as she comes in for the kill.

"No! Heck, no! I'm warning you!"

First, she twirls her fingers into his hair with a gentleness that catches him off guard. Then, as he continues to spout curse after curse, she brushes a kiss over his cheek, and it feels like he's been shocked. Maybe he was. Whatever the case, he flinches away, but her hand on the opposite side of his face stops him.

"Hm. Never took you for the kind to run away," she snickers, wrinkling her pale nose. Being so close, in the bright light from the window, her own dark beauty mark above and to the right of her upper lip looks almost black. "Is the scion of the Nightray house afraid of a girl?"

"I AM N-"

She catches his jaw between her hands and pulls him to her, kissing him soundly.

His immediate thought is to throw her off him, give her the proper slap she deserves, and then break the doors down so he can beat the crud out of his valet for putting him through this. But then, electricity begins to spiral through him, through his veins, making his blood run hot and fast. What the heck is this!? This! Not supposed to happen! Make it stop!

_Is this…_

NO. N-O. Isn't that what he had said? Doesn't she understand he could have her thrown out into the streets for this humiliation!?

_Pleasure?_

What, whoa, hey! No, stop it! His hands, trembling, his heart, pounding, blood rushing. His body, without his mind's consent, is beginning to react. This can't be happening. This isn't happening! It's all some sort of weird dream, brought on by some scene in some novel he can't remember reading. He's not in the library, pinned to the sofa. He's not straddled by an inappropriate maid who can't leave well enough alone, he's not kissing her, and he most certainly, ABSOLUTELY most certainly not enjoying it.

She's teasing him, playing with him. She obviously knows what she's doing as she bites softly on his lip. His shallow breath hitches automatically, and she takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. A shudder wracks his spine.

Oh, to heck with it.

A blur of passion follows. He's keenly aware of everything – his pulse throbbing in his own ears, their heaving chests, her warm breath on his neck, the ivory porcelain texture of her delicate hands, the softness and warmth of her body against his.

C***, he'd fallen for it. Hard. Ow, his pride…

* * *

Leo watched through the key hole. He really should give them some privacy; but his evil plan is working! He has a right to spy, doesn't he? He only hopes now that his master will have enough self-control not to take things too far. Which, Leo doesn't doubt, he will. Elliot may have a temper as hot as a jalapeno pepper, but if there's one thing the scion would never jeopardize, it's his dignity. His reputation.

Oz, who sits next to him, leans in once again to try and crowd Leo away from the keyhole, but Leo shoves him away, as he has every other time. It's one thing for Leo himself to spy; another for someone that Elliot could care less for.

"Oh, come on!" Oz whines quietly after his most recent attempt to peek is foiled. He folds his gangly arms and pouts. "They've been quiet for an awfully long time…"

"For good reason," Leo smirks, leaning away from the door. "It worked perfectly. Very nice choice."

"Hey, she fit his criteria better than my sister, and that's saying something."

Leo laughs, and peers over at the grandfather clock down the hall. Squinting, he can barely make out the time.

"I think they've had enough… Ready to unlock the doors and run for your life?"

Oz gives a wicked grin. "Ready and awaiting the command, skipper!"

* * *

They still struggle to catch their breaths. He's tucked his hands behind his back to keep them behaving. The kisses have gone from flares of passion to soft, sweet savors of gentle affection. But he feels hungry, itching, aching to feel, to taste, like a feral animal craving more, more.

What has she done to him?

She takes a deep breath, leaning her forehead against his neck, and when she speaks, her voice is soft, breathless. "Wow… Okay. So you weren't lying."

He clears his throat, flushing deeper, and he wonders if he'll ever return to his usual coloring again. "Actually… I was. I've… never kissed anyone in my life."

_Click._

And there it appears, that same old infuriating smirk. She shifts, backward, away from him. "Neither have I."

"WHAT!?"

She steals one last kiss from him, her rose-petal lips leaving his mind numb and his lips buzzing, before jumping up and darting to the doors on the other side of the library. She pauses there, blowing him a kiss from those same full, before swinging the door open and disappearing out into the hall. He can only stare after her, dumbfounded. First, she's there…

Now she's not.

What the heck?

Another click, and the other library door cracks open. "Elliot?"

That voice. That stupid face. Watching that whole time! Here comes the anger, that oh-so-familiar fury that replaces the foreign ecstacy that had numbed him a mere moment before. This, this is normal. This is what he knew. This… is what he's been wanting to do for a long time now.

"LEO, YOU #$%*# !"

The valet is gone before Elliot even reaches the doors. He bursts through, the doors flying back on their hinges to hit the walls with duel bangs. As he prepares to storm after his noire servant, he catches a glimpse of white hair out of the corner of his eye. Nerys, coming from down another hallway, pauses, and her smile makes color rush to his face again, d*****! But still, it makes his own mouth quirk halfway in a returning grin. She turns, and heads in the opposite direction; he stares after her. Has she always been that…

A blur of blond and green blocks his view of her, and instantly, he jumps out at the Vessalius boy, lashing to grab a fistful of hair. Oz yelps, and backpedals, running back around the corner.

"YOU STUPID LITTLE BRAT, COME BACK HERE! I'LL STRANGLE BOTH OF YOU!"

A game of tag isn't easy in a four story mansion, but when he manages to catch his valet by the collar, he slams him against the wall, and leans in until they're nose to nose.

"You breathe a word of what you saw to anyone," he mutters darkly, "and I will personally form a lynch mob, drag you outside, and hang you from the highest tree in the yard. Go all backwater American frontier style on you."

Leo laughs, though it's anxious. "As if."

Elliot jabs a finger in his face. "Deny it if you want. But I swear, one way or another, you'll regret it. And I'm currently plotting my revenge for organizing this whole thing in the first place. You'd better watch your back."

And from the sinister look of mischief on his face as he walks away, Leo knows well enough that he really should be quite scared.

**A/N: Feedback is greatly appreciated. Let me know what you liked, and/or what you didn't like. :)**


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